The most annoying thing
by YlvaBorealis
Summary: Sheldon and Amy wake up after their sleepover in the Blanket fort and Sheldon comes to an important conclusion. Shamy


**A/N: Yes. I fell for temptation too, writing about that damn fort. But how couldn't I? I've been debating for over a week whether to post this but then I thought Ah, why not... =)**

**\- YlvaB **

* * *

The most annoying thing

By YlvaBorealis

"Ouff…!" Sheldon Cooper groaned as he opened his eyes, his mind still slightly clouded from what seemed like way too few hours of sleep. His tailbone hurt. His hip hurt. The back of his head didn't exactly hurt but he wasn't comfortable either. Had he been sleeping on the floor?

Slowly he began looking around, taking in the multi-colored sheets that formed a tent-like structure in what he knew was his living room. Christmas lights ornamented the fragile, flowing walls, and the sun's first gentle rays had found their way in through their fibers. It had to be early morning.

"The fort" he mumbled to himself, carefully turning on his side where he lay beneath the couch, a thin mattress the only barrier between him and the hard wooden floor. No wonder his entire body ached. No wonder he felt like he hadn't gotten any sleep. No wonder his nose felt like it was buried in the crook of Amy's neck. Amy's neck. Amy?

His eyes, which up until that point had been half-lidded, were now completely open. As he'd turned from his back to his side he had rolled nose-first into Amy, who was still sound asleep.

They had spent the night together in the fort: side by side, beneath separate blankets but on top of the same mattress, hands shyly entwined. She had offered to build it for him when he had come to her for comfort, struck by the realization that his colleagues had excluded him, painfully aware that this was just another chapter in the story of his life. And as much as he wanted to grow for her, mature for her, he had been overwhelmed with joy when she suggested they create their own fortress of solitude, their own temple of regression. They had giggled like children, playing games and sharing stories, until the time came for Amy to leave and Sheldon's heart gained a life of its own. It reached out to her, took control of his vocal cords, asked her not to leave his side. Just one more game? One more story?

She had agreed. Of course she had agreed. He had known she would as soon as the words left his mouth. A tiny part of him even knew she would suggest she stayed the night. With him. In the fort.

"I should pull away from her" Sheldon thought, his eyelashes fluttering against the soft skin that peeked out over the collar of Amy's flannel pajama shirt. "I shouldn't be so close to her."

She was on her back, her face turned away from him. Her dark hair was sprawled over the white pillow he had brought her from his room, and one of her arms was draped lazily over her head. She was breathing heavily, and each time she drew a breath a small sniffing sound escaped her nose. Her breasts strained against her tartan shirt.

Sheldon swallowed hard at that thought, closing his eyes for a second. Breasts. Amy had breasts. There had been a time when that was simply a fact, nothing else, a sign that she was of the opposite biological sex. Hardly worth putting down in his log. The last few months however…

They were just there. He didn't know how or when it happened but suddenly they were there. It was not as if they had just popped out of the Earth like dandelions: they had probably been there long before he had first laid eyes on her some five years ago. He couldn't explain it but the past year they had just been more… present. Prominent. Constantly in his field of vision. Surely there must be some sort of anomaly behind this but not even he with his multiple degrees and 187 IQ-points had been able to figure out _what. _

He pulled away from her, propping himself up on one elbow. Cocking his head to the side he traced her facial features with his eyes, wanting to reach out and touch her, deciding against it for reasons he didn't yet understand. By society's – and Amy's – standards he was free to touch her whenever he pleased. But he wouldn't. He _couldn't. _Could he?

It was just his index finger but it was still flesh against flesh. It made contact with her jawbone, almost by its own volition. "What am I doing?" Sheldon asked himself, his touch lighter than that of a butterfly landing on a rose petal, his entire body shaking as he marveled at how soft her skin was. Slowly he let the tip of his finger slide all the way alone her jawline until it made contact with her bottom lip. He liked her bottom lip. Sometimes when they kissed he enjoyed pulling at it slightly with his upper teeth. She'd moan when he did that, pressing herself harder against him, and her breasts would be there again as well as her hips and thighs. That painful, pleasurable strain, that throbbing, that embarrassment, that _excitement… _He could feel his pulse increasing just from the sheer thought of these sessions.

Just as he'd gathered the courage to let his finger slip down to her clavicle, Amy began stirring.

"Mpphhh" she let out, causing Sheldon to recoil and withdraw his hand from her.

"Sheldon?" she husked, slowly opening her eyes, revealing dark irises that would have been deep green had the light not been dimmed. "Is it morning already?"

He blinked, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. She didn't seem bothered though: instead she put her arms above her head, half-yawning and half-moaning as she stretched the entire length of her body. "Ahh, that feels so good" she smiled, turning to look at Sheldon who had still to answer her question.

"It's… it's 6.30" the tall lanky man stuttered in response after he had reached for his cellphone. "I need to be at work at 8.15."

Amy slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes and letting out yet another yawn.

"That's alright, I'll take you. What would you like for breakfast?" she asked after she put on her glasses, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

"Today is French toast with syrup day" Sheldon replied matter-of-factly, preparing to get out of the fort. Just as he sat up a petite hand shot out, clasping his shoulder. Sheldon looked down at it, not quite grasping how something so small could hold so much force. She wasn't even pressing hard.

"Sit down. I have a surprise for you" Amy let out, her face lit up by a cheeky grin. She looked so young in that moment, her legs pulled up under her body and her eyes sparkling. He found himself thinking she looked cute. Cute? Koalas were cute, not headstrong neurobiologists with way too much female intuition for his comfort. But there she was.

Looking cute.

"You know I hate surprises" Sheldon groaned, rolling his eyes at her enthusiasm. It was true: he thoroughly despised surprises. They came with an element of…well… surprise. His world was structured, ordered, neatly categorized and labeled. He liked knowing what was going to happen – _predictability _was a word that made his blood course faster through his veins.

"It's alright Sheldon, I'm not asking for anything in return. I'm not going to spring anything on you. Just stay here and I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" Amy assured him, gently patting the shoulder she had clasped just seconds ago, getting up and out of the fort before the lanky physicist had the chance to protest. She bent over as she made her way out and he turned away from her, the sight of her flannel-clad posterior making him extremely uncomfortable. It had the annoying habit of always being present too. All these body parts, mocking him, alluring him… He didn't know what to make of it. It was a feeling he had not yet been able to decipher.

He debated getting up on the couch, craving the comfort of his spot, but instead he remained on the floor, leaning back against the side of the leather-clad center of his Universe. Outside of the fort he could hear the sound of the refrigerator door being opened, the cracking of eggs, the frying of bread. Amy must be making breakfast.

Her scent still lingered in the Kasbah-like space, and the sheets on the floor were still ruffled. They had slept there, together. Sheldon had never shared a bed with a woman before, not even with Amy. Women were creatures he hadn't been able to figure out back when he was a teenager, and the older he got the less inclined he became to make an actual effort. What was the point? What did he need to know about women, other than that they weren't men and had annoying habits he didn't care for? Amy had tons of them! Little things that bothered him to no end.

She smelled good. It was incredibly irritating because he would know she was in the room before he even saw her. She would sing to herself sometimes and her voice was deep and husky, like some of those women on his grandmother's old records, and he'd be reminded of his Meemaw and feel sad because he so rarely saw her. She would touch him and kiss him, even in public. In public!

And he didn't understand this thing about her wanting to make him happy. She went to great lengths to please him, and he ended up letting her get her way, and then he felt both mad and oddly delirious. She tickled his thigh sometimes with her nails while they kissed. That was the most annoying habit of them all: his eyes rolled back in their sockets when she did this, and his spine felt like it turned into liquid. He always had to break away at that point, the sensation too much for him to handle. Silly woman and her silly habits. What did he need to know about women?

An enormous breakfast tray came in through the tiny opening, interrupting him in is reverie. Amy had to muster up superhuman strength and balance in order not to tip anything over, and in a feat worthy of Batman's humble valet Alfred she put the tray down on the floor between himself and her.

"I thought we could have breakfast in the fort" Amy smiled, once again crossing her legs underneath her, picking up a plate with French toast and offering it to Sheldon.

Sheldon accepted the plate, staring at the French toast that was covered in dark, sweet syrup. Orange juice, hot tea, warm crispy goodness that melted in his mouth as he tentatively took a bite while Amy happily babbled about the project she'd be working on today. He closed his eyes, effectively shutting her out, losing himself in that moment, that blissful little slice of the future that was being offered to him. Promises of days to come, the knowledge that no one else in the world would build him a fort just because he was sad, green eyes that sparkled, warm breasts beneath tartan flannel…

_That_ was the most annoying thing at all. That he never wanted her to leave.

THE END


End file.
